


Glow

by Splinter



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Established Relationship, Human Disaster Eddie Brock, Light Dom/sub, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sweat, Tentacle Sex, Venom POV, Venom on top, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 10:44:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17262809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splinter/pseuds/Splinter
Summary: Eddie is a sweaty mess. Venom likes him like that.





	Glow

Eddie sweats easily. Having an alien symbiote makes him run hot: even San Francisco mists won’t make him shiver, these days. That’s not the only reason.

Venom enjoys getting Eddie sweaty and dishevelled. It’s how he was when they first met. Some of that was his human body’s response to invasion, fighting back against Venom’s dominance – but fighting well. Where other hosts had sickened and died, Eddie’s body was adjusting, energised rather than drained by occupation. Obviously, that wasn’t exactly ideal; after careful conversations, Venom has come to accept human ideas about meaningful consent. It’s still fun to see him hot and bothered.

Nostalgia only goes so far. Eddie is bad at self-care. He is reckless with his body, with his precious self. Though he flails adorably at being thrown off buildings or hurried through traffic, he takes what his other considers to be worse risks. It doesn’t want its beloved to go all the way back to how he was then: depressed and angsty and self-destructive, short on serotonin and high on stress, packed with sad habits of thought and body. It’s important that Eddie should look after himself, look after _them_ , that he should wash and exercise regularly. If Venom enjoys tracing drops of water or sweat over its host’s skin, well, that’s just a bonus.

The sweat of exercise is downright tasty. Heat perspiration is wholesome, too, a natural response to changing atmospheric conditions. Hangover sweats are much less appealing. They have a sour flavour, the rankness of a body struggling to expel poisons. The symbiote grumbles when Eddie insists on drinking too much alcohol for his system. It still intervenes to smooth away the symptoms, usually with extensive commentary. 

But this sweat, oh, this sweat is _delicious_. 

Venom is wrapped around and through its host, holding him open, tentacles gripping his limbs. Eddie can barely move, but he’s arching into it, trying to reach for Venom, begging for more. His legs are already trembling, skin slick, with sweat and where it has been licking him. 

**So good, Eddie. So perfect**. Venom licks him again, long tongue curling around a nipple before working up to the curve of his throat. It feels as much as hears the little whine Eddie gives. There are two slick tentacles curled into his ass, one massaging his prostate while the other rocks in and out, making sure he feels the stretch. 

His cock is straining, hard and dark. He moans out loud when his other wraps a tentacle around the base, gives a teasing little squeeze. Eddie’s hips buck, as much as they can in this tight hold. His brain is pouring out delicious chemicals, a flood of dopamine and epinephrine. Venom can taste his pleasure and arousal, the intoxicating tang of need. It nudges its tongue between his lips – not really muffling the sound, but changing it. Eddie is gulping and whimpering, but somehow he finds the strength to suck at Venom’s tongue-tip.

 **Yesssss…** For Venom, there’s the extra thrill of the bond it has with Eddie, true symbiosis rather than parasitism. They share so much, want and hunger surging through their connected minds. Whatever it does to stimulate him is reflected back, shimmering through both of them until there’s no telling where symbiote ends and host begins. It could take, could make him do whatever it wants – and there’s a shiver of lust from Eddie at the idea of that – but that’s not what’s happening here. Eddie gives himself, opens himself, welcomes Venom in. 

**You, oh, you…** Venom can’t help nibbling at Eddie’s shoulder, lapping along his collarbone, crooning in wonder. More than seven billion people on this strange planet, and it has found the one who would make a gift of himself, his beautiful body and his beautiful mind. 

Venom is entranced by so much trust. There’s not a shadow of doubt in Eddie, its perfect Eddie. He’s spread out and possessed and he just wants more, so turned on by Venom’s power and danger. There’s fear there, certainly, and traces of weirder, more specifically human emotions, almost-discarded shame and guilt. It’s like the heated spices that flavour some of their favourite foods, a dash of dirtywronghot that only makes Eddie more turned on. Venom doesn’t know why humans are so quick to deny their desires. Damming the flow only makes it burst out more powerfully. 

Speaking of which… it tightens its grip on Eddie’s system, making sure he can’t come until it says so. Its darling loser is as rumpled as it has ever seen him, a gorgeous flush from his cheeks down his full throat. His hair is standing up in damp peaks, sweat beading into droplets all over him. Venom wants to count them, the way it counted stars from its confinement on the space probe, to lick up every one. 

Eddie has already reached his babbling point, endearments tumbling out as he begs and pleads and curses. Shudders of pleasure and overstimulation rush through him as he pants. 

“Venom – baby – oh fuck – oh please – ahh – ”

 **Yes, Eddie?** It licks the pulse in his throat, lets its teeth just scratch where the blood is pounding. The two tentacles inside him throb, expanding and pressing with expert, practised skill. The sound Eddie makes is highpitched, something between a breath and a whimper. Venom purrs and keeps going. It’s a long moment before Eddie can get any words together.

“V – I want to come – oh darling – sweet Jesus, you’re so – oh…”

Eddie is squirming now, trying to fuck into Venom’s grip on his cock or to flinch away from the overstimulation. Maybe both, both at once. He is a precious disaster, most himself as he is shaking apart.

 **My Eddie**. In theory, Venom could keep this up for hours more. In practice, it knows it won’t be able to resist letting him come. Eddie moans, raw and desperate. He can barely move, but his mind is clinging to Venom’s, as tight as the inky tentacles wound around his limbs.

“Yours – yours – oh please – ” 

That does it.

 ** _MINE_** – and with that, Venom lets go, lets him come. His whole body lights up with it, clenching and shuddering. The symbiote is still stroking him, fucking him through it, greedily milking him. It keeps going right through the aftershocks, until Eddie is almost crying with it, his whole body limp and spent.

 **Mine** , Venom says again, finally letting up. It eases the tentacles out of Eddie’s ass, putting other feelers around him, stroking and soothing. Eddie’s chest is heaving, his heart still thumping fast. Sharing his body, Venom can feel how fucked out he is: the twitchiness of his muscles, the luscious surge of oxytocin in his bloodstream. He looks divinely wrecked, sticky with come and sweat. Venom promises itself it will lick him clean this time, before letting him soak in a hot shower. 

“Oh babe,” Eddie slurs. He looks so dazed, bare and vulnerable. It curls its tentacles around him, protective and soothing. After licking him clean and showering him, Venom decides, it will make him change the sheets so they can curl up together, warm and clean and safe. It doesn’t much mind stained bedding, but Eddie’s sleep must be comfortable and luxurious. 

They can go hunting another night. Right now, it doesn’t even want chocolate, sated with its host’s pleasure. Though symbiotes are born hungry, Eddie Brock is the perfect snack: salty and tender and so, so sweet.


End file.
